


Hot Hitter

by SoniaVice



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, Toronto Blue Jays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoniaVice/pseuds/SoniaVice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>José drops by to have a word with Josh about his behaviour.  Josh isn't listening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Hitter

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the _verve_ with which Donaldson celebrated a recent Bautista home run.
> 
> I have no idea if Josh calls him Joey for real; you can imagine he's doing it here to piss him off.

The best part about Joey hitting one deep was slapping his pretty ass after. 

Josh tried to be an honest man, truthful, righteous, like he'd been taught at Faith Christian. When it was Joey rolling through the dugout after running the bases, he slapped that ass a little harder, a little more on target. Fuck, he was tight. Who didn't want their hands on that?

With Joey, the front view was damn sweet too, so when he showed up at Josh's door all simmering over with something hot and angry, his pretty eyes and those goddamn lips were distracting. Josh could be forgiven for not really listening to him. Should be forgiven. Probably wasn't gonna to be.

"I'm talking, you're listening," Joey had said, stalking inside like he had the right, so Josh just leaned on the closed door and watched that ass. The man did not have pants that weren't tight. And he'd shoved his wallet in the back pocket, big look at me bulge. He always had something shoved in his pockets, like he thought folks needed a signpost. _Hot ass this way_. No one needed that. 

"You want a beer?" Josh said, not caring he was interrupting. He walked over to the kitchen, letting his hips get loose, not giving a shit that he was chubbing up. If he looked like he was thinking about fucking someone, he was cool with that. He was always thinking that when Joey was around. A riled up Joey who wanted to bust his balls over something was just so much better fuel for those thoughts.

He got out two beers, handed one over, not pouring it out in a glass because he was very interested in watching Joey tip the bottle up and swallow. He held his own bottle down low, dangling between his two fingers, in case Joey needed help knowing where to look for the bulge. He leaned back on the bar, thrust his hips out a little more and indulged in a short little fantasy about Joey sucking his cock. You needed variety in your inner life. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Joey said. The words just exploded out of his mouth, and Josh laughed, delighted. The man was just so much sugar, everything about him was hot and sweet. He stalked right over to get up in Josh's face. Oh no, he was in _trouble_. He laughed again, he couldn't help it.

Joey slammed the beer down, and pulled his arm back in the biggest, windmilling windup for a punch any sucker had ever seen. Josh was no damn sucker. He had Joey's wrist in his hand, hard enough to grind bones, and that was the stupidest fucking thing he'd ever done, so he cooled it off a little. 

"No, Joey. No fucking way," he said, in his best I mean business tone. "You want me to stop looking at you, fine, you say so. You want me to aim a little less careful when you get your ass slapped, sure, babe. You want me to stop thinking about how much I want to fuck your pretty ass, well, no, I ain't stopping that. I can keep that off my face, though. You want that, you say that, and I'll try to listen and not be all distracted by your goddamn pretty mouth. Fuck, Joey, you do shit to me, but you don't get to punch my stupid fucking face in."

Joey was glaring at him, heat just pouring off him. That look would scare him if he was a pitcher. Josh let his arm go, and it fell slowly, the simmering heat not going anywhere. All that accomplished was make his cock a little harder, the bulge in his pants bigger. It sure as hell wasn't going to make him _stop_. 

Josh spread his legs a little more, just a bit, just enough that if he reached out and slipped his hands around Joey's waist and pulled, just a little tug, Joey would end up snugged right up against him, cock to cock like god and nature intended. He was trying to be a gentleman, he did not even sneak one finger down onto that ass.

Joey was not telling him to stop. Joey was groaning and fluttering his eyelids closed, and leaning back like he wanted to get away with the top half of his body, while grinding his hard cock against Josh with the part of him that was in charge. To hell with being a gentleman, Josh grabbed his ass. 

Joey leaned in. Joey leaned right in, pushed Josh a little painfully hard against the counter and kissed him like he'd only just discovered it and wanted to get really good at it fast. It was a fight. On the rare occasion when Josh stopped imagining his tight ass or noticing those dark eyelashes or those lips, he had assumed that kissing Joey would be a battle. And he was correct.

Joey, with his mouth wet and his eyes hot with sex instead of anger, was the best fucking thing Josh had seen. "What—I mean, you—what do you want?" Joey said, all confused and helplessly horny.

Josh almost laughed at him. It was so predictable, the typical straight man question: _Josh, my dick seems into it, and I'd like to come. How can we do that without it being too gay?_

Except Joey didn't wait for an answer, he just dove in and kissed Josh some more, not getting any fight because Josh was too surprised. He was good, talented with that tongue, so Josh just let him go, and held on, grinding in a slow, sweet circle. He figured that was all he'd get, and Joey would fuck off out of there as soon as he got off. He was wrong about that too.

Joey kissed him thoroughly and deeply and then pulled off, leaving his mouth wet and lonely. He pulled right back, and Josh let him go, regretfully parting with that ass. He didn't go far, just a couple of paces. He looked like he couldn't talk. Josh wasn't looking for conversation either, but they needed to sort a few things out. "I do want to fuck your pretty ass," he said, mostly to see if Joey would break and run or try to hit him again. 

He got neither. Joey was stuck in the middle, suspended between staying to get that hard cock taken care of and going back out the door to where he was safe. "That's what I want," Josh explained, "not what I think I'm going to get."

"Okay," Joey said, voice all sexy and dark and that didn't just happen, you had to put that on at least a little bit. He stalked back the two strides it took to reach Josh and hauled him in for another kiss, and while he had Josh all fucked up sucking face, he popped the button on Josh's jeans and slid the zipper down, nice and careful. Thoughtful, it was a damn thoughtful gesture. 

Josh was not a shy man. He wiggled his hips to drop his jeans down a little and thrust his hips out so when Joey touched him, got his hand around Josh's cock like he knew what he was doing—what man didn't?—he was ready for it. 

He was not ready for it. Holy fucking hell, that felt good. Joey worked his cock hard and fast in a strong grip while he held Josh's head still and fucking devoured his mouth. Josh whined a little and fucked into his hand with a shameless snap of his hips. Some goddamn lube would have been nice, but you poked the wasp's nest and you got stung how the wasp wanted. 

He held himself up with a death grip on the counter and had to pull off of Joey's damn mouth when he was getting close. "Joey, fuck, man. Come on, Joey, so good, please, so good." He was a whiny little shit when he was ready to shoot off. Nothing he could do about it.

Joey worked him through it, while he whined and humped the air and shook one leg like a fucking dog with an itch it couldn't reach. Josh had a hell of a lot of itches he couldn't scratch by himself. This was one way to deal with it. He grunted like a bad porno when he came, and Joey just kept on working him, not freaked out by come on his hand, which was nice because Josh liked a long let down, nice and slow and easy. 

"Use my shirt," Josh said when he'd tuned back in to notice the man had a dilemma. It made him jump, the touch of his hand on his belly through his shirt. "Joey," he said, hitching his pants up enough they wouldn't fall down, trying to get his brain back online. "Joey, babe, sit your ass down over there in that chair."

"What?" Joey said, with a look that didn't make him seem all that bright.

"I am going to suck your giant cock, Joey, now hush up and sit down."

Joey rolled his eyes at that. Josh had called his ass pretty a hundred times, but calling his cock giant, correctly, Josh would bet, although he hadn't actually _seen_ it yet, that got a big ole' eye roll. 

He hustled that pretty ass to the chair. He also grunted in surprise when Josh went down on his knees like he wanted to. Josh set his palms on Joey's knees and pushed them apart, rubbed up and down his thighs lightly, looking to get him to chill a little. "You grab the hair, Joey, all you want, but just remember where my teeth are."

"Come on," Joey said and bucked up his hips a little. 

"Get it out where I can see it," Josh commanded. 

Joey got a little bug eyed, but he did it, opened his tight pants and pulled out a very nice cock. Very nice. Josh got busy admiring it with his eyes and his hands and his mouth. He kind of lost track of Joey in there somewhere until he started making noise. 

He was going to dig his fingers right into the padding on the chair he was holding on to so tight, and he was also going to pop his fucking hamstring trying not to move while Josh sucked him like a pro. He'd considered it for one horrible weekend when he thought he'd never sort himself out, never make it in the game. He gave great head. He wouldn't have starved. 

Joey let out this grunt finally, the first sound he'd made louder than an indrawn breath, and it sounded like it hurt, like it tore him open when it erupted out of his mouth. The flood came behind it, pleas and cursing, Spanish—most of it dirty enough Josh knew it—and then finally, his name. "Josh, come on, Josh, fuck, that's it, what I need." He sounded like he needed to cry, which was the other risk when you poked the wasp's nest. Sometimes the straight guys couldn't take it, how much they liked it. He should be kind and finish him off before Joey got so far out he couldn't find his way back. 

He didn't. He kept him going, teetering on the edge, and he listened to his voice, listened to it crack apart piece by piece until it washed away, and all he was doing was moaning and thrusting his goddamn hips finally. That's what he'd been waiting for, the last little bit of control gone. Josh loosened up and backed off and let him fuck his face for a few thrusts. So much enthusiasm deserved a reward, so Josh pressed down hard, holding him still and finished him off, swallowing around his cock as he came and making all the noise he wanted while he was taking him down. 

Josh sat back on his heels feeling his balls stirring. His boss was up for another round, but Joey looked wasted, eyes shut, head turned away. Josh reached up and thumbed the wetness from the corner of Joey's eyes, and Joey hitched in a breath but didn't make him stop. 

He let him off easy. He stood up and tucked himself away, went to find his beer to wash the taste out of his mouth. He only liked the taste of dick while he was sucking it. 

Joey pulled himself together, at least literally; figuratively, he looked a little fucked up still. He wasn't talking, wasn't looking at anything that wasn't the floor, and Josh let him try to stalk on shaky legs to the door. 

"Joey," Josh said, hoping he'd turn and look, and feeling this shot of satisfaction when he did. He was coming back up to the boil, his eyes showing sparks of anger that looked a lot like passion to Josh. "I still want to fuck that pretty ass," Josh said, in a matter of fact tone. It was a matter of fact. Nothing Josh could do to stop it being true.

Joey's face stormed up pretty, like the thunderstorms that blew up and rolled through town once a week, making him half scared there'd be fucking tornadoes like down home. Not scared enough to keep him from watching the light show over the lake from his balcony. 

Joey didn't come for him, no tornado this time, he just slammed out the door making a sound like a single clap of thunder or the crack of the bat hitting it deep.


End file.
